Of Blood and Rain
by Yui-chan98
Summary: Connections, no matter how brief, resonate. The war two years ago changed everything and things have gotten a bit dull for Ichigo. But the surfacing of an old rival and a new threat could change everything forever. GrimmIchi. Yaoi, Language, Lemons


**Hellooo, Yui here bringing you a fic of sorts. It's still in an exploratory phase, but I'm hoping it'll become gradually better. Tell me what you think, critiques welcome! (SPOILER WARNING also for those who have yet to reach the conclusion of Ichigo's fight with Grimmjow and onwards).  
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**Yaoi. Rated M for language and lemon in later chapters.**

**I (sadly) do not own Bleach (c) Tite Kubo.**

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The final Desgarrón had been deflected. One final flash of black steel and it was finished; Zangetsu pierced Grimmjow's chest sure and true before pulling away. The rejection roaring to be expressed by Grimmjow couldn't make its way out as the orange haired boy caught his arm and lowered him gingerly to the ivory sands of Hueco Mundo. Everything was becoming hazy, the creeping black of unconsciousness threatened to overtake him.

"_No…_"

He couldn't let it end like this. Grimmjow desperately gathered what little strength he had left to muster.

"_There's no way! There's no way I'll let you beat me!_" The thought rang defiantly in his head.

He utilized his remaining strength to stand, grudgingly feeling his Resurrección dissipate, leaving him in his now dirty, battered, and torn shihakushou. Legs trembling violently with the effort, Grimmjow tried to step forward…

The blow struck him violently and he was thrown to the side, blindsided by Nnoitra's axe like blade.

Grimmjow was seeing stars. The strike, as well as winding him, left yet another enormous gash over his torso, staining him a fresh crimson. A moment passed and he could no longer hold out. His vision dimmed rapidly and soon grew black. In his last hold on consciousness, he could only hear fragments of what was going on.

A slew of obscure words.

A yell of surprise from that kidnapped girl.

A viscious cackle from Nnoitra…

"He can barely stand you bastard! How dare you attack him!"

This came as a slight surprise.

"_Why in the hell is he defending me?_" Grimmjow thought with a final strain. The angry row became garbled words as the rest of his senses faded.

Then the darkness took him.

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Hot.

It was much too hot.

I made myself comfortable at the foot of my bed as I slid the firm, wet shaft in and out of my mouth, almost to the hilt each time. I consumed it slowly, savoring the flavor, desperate to make it last as long as possible.

Strawberry did happen to be my favorite flavor, after all.

Fidgeting again for a comfy position, I propped myself up on one elbow on the windowsill just above my bed as I nibbled conservatively on my strawberry popsicle. By now, it was dripping on me, but I couldn't find it in me to care at the moment. It was too hot outside to give a damn. The more I willed even a tiny breeze to come, the less of a possibility it seemed to be; the stale, hot July air stifled everything around it.

I tousled my orange spiky hair with an annoyed groan and fell back onto my bed.

Fuck.

A cold shower would feel soooo good right now, if only I wouldn't get all sweaty and overheated all over again because of the stupid weather. It'd probably help if I actually had something to do too.

The year before last was the last time I'd had my hands full. My time battling the Arrancars in Hueco Mundo, rescuing Orihime, and fighting Aizen had been my entire life for a long while. After mastering the Mugetsu technique and defeating Aizen, all my shinigami powers had been stripped from me. All my life being able to see spirits and having to fight, all I had ever wanted was to be normal. After the final battle, I had gotten my wish. I couldn't see or sense spirits or reiatsu anymore. I spent a portion of this past year working on my studies (my grades over the past two years had plummeted miserably). Everyone went about their normal lives. Things were finally stable.

Only now… was that really how I wanted things?

I stared contemplatively up at the ceiling, its blank surface determined to reveal no answers no matter how hard I concentrated on it. I screwed up my brow in concentration.

Orihime, Uryu, Renji, Rukia, the rest of Soul Society, everyone. Everyone was back to their normal routines. Most of my friends (well, maybe with the exception of Keigo, that lazy bastard) had been either focused on their schoolwork, their jobs, or both. Now that summer had come along, many of them were on vacation. Uryu was still around, but he was busy a lot of the time. He apparently thought it necessary to take care of any hollows around. He'll probably just end up pissing off Soul Society.

Meanwhile, my sister Karin had her own share of business to deal with. Her spirit-sensing abilities had apparently increased enormously, and she seemed to have picked up on where I first began. Based on what I could tell, she sort of views them as a pain in the ass. I assumed she was doing fine, being as she had yet to ask me anything about the subject. Though there was a strangeness about her sometimes (more often now), that struck me as peculiar. She was harder to read sometimes. Could there be something she's hiding from me? She seemed to be handling it well enough, but still…

As for the shinigami, I assumed they had all gone back to their normal posts in Soul Society long ago. I hadn't had any sign or inkling from any of them for well over a year, not even Rukia or Renji. I sometimes felt myself missing them most of all, though I still refuse to admit it if anyone were to ask.

What about the arrancar?

Wait.

What the hell did I care? They had been the enemy. The war with Aizen had been won. The last news I'd gotten last year before my connections were cut off said that he'd been imprisoned in the deepest chamber of Soul Society's prisons for god knows how long. All the Espada had died in the war…

I lay there for a moment still brooding, when memories of a certain fight came back to me.

_Grimmjow_.

I turned the name over a few times in my head. I recalled his angular, rather handsome face and that spiky teal hair. That horrible attitude of his.

And that magnificent body he always showed off with that open jacket. Just one touch would have been nice…

I blushed like mad. Where the hell did that come from? The picture tried to come back several times and I pushed the thought away.

At any rate, he had to be dead, right? I know I didn't kill him with my last blow, I was only aiming to win the fight. But that bastard Nnoitra had hit him pretty good. Even though I didn't know if he was alive or not, he definitely would have been if I hadn't temporarily stopped Nnoitra from hitting him again while he was down. I was lucky to have survived much longer until Zaraki showed up (he was a crazy bastard, but I still wished I had gotten the chance to thank him for that). Before I left through the Garganta back to fake Karakura, I remember looking back though, and Grimmjow definitely hadn't looked to good.

Why do I care though?

He was an arrogant, violent man, who sometimes reminded me more of an animal than a man (an arrancar, I reminded myself). During the fight, he said he hated the way I looked at him. Maybe he thought he saw superiority in my eyes, but I knew I was in the right, since that was not the case. There was something I had to do, something I needed to do, and he wasn't the type to give up. In fact, I don't think he knew how to give up. Idiot.

Yet somehow, in some weird way, I thought it a little noble…

Why am I sitting here ranting to myself about this? I just need to forget him and move on.

My mind rounded back to my original question.

Was I really happy now? Is this really what I want for the rest of my life?

I stared emptily at the ceiling for a bit longer until I noticed that I was down to the stick where my popsicle had once existed.

The small metal trash can across the room clanged hollowly as I tossed in the stick into it.

Sigh.

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I'd been stuck in this darkness for god knows how long. For the longest time now, it had been swallowing me deeper and deeper into its depths, but strange enough I couldn't find it in me to care. All I wanted to know was what the hell was going on.

As if the dark or whatever force that was keeping me suspended here had heard me, I felt an abrupt lurch in my gut. It felt as though whatever had been under me had dropped away, and I felt something begin to restrain me.

What in the fuck was going on here!

Golden chains, it seemed had looped over me, making a big 'X' over my chest. More of the glistening bonds encircled my wrists and ankles out of nowhere; I thrashed uselessly in building panic and indignation. They began to radiate with either the coldest or the hottest burning I'd ever felt; the difference was indistinguishable. It became maddeningly intense as they dragged me roughly down, searing their horrible fucking burning into my wounds with audible and vicious sizzling. Unable to take anymore, I howled out my agony and rage in bellows and snarls fit for a beast. My struggling was still fruitless, and just as I thought I couldn't take anymore, what I could see flying up past me became blindingly crimson, and I suddenly slammed into solid ground. The force felt about a hundred times worse than when that fucker Nnoitra sucker punched me. With dying fizzles, the chains unwound themselves and slipped away.

Pain searing everywhere, I sat up wanly and leaned over one elbow, trying to regain the breath that had been knocked out of me. My eyes were still screwed up in pain as I tried to regain as much air as possible.

Motherfuck, that hurt.

About a minute or so later I had recovered enough and unclenched my eyes to get a look around. Where the hell was I?

The place was really similar to Hueco Mundo. The sky overhead was pitch black and bare; jagged cliffs dotted the horizon in random places. The sands here, not unlike Hueco Mundo, were laid out in vast expanses, but there was on major difference: all of the sand here was blood red. Before I could wonder about where the fuck I was anymore, there was a great booming _crack_ from somewhere deep below my position. Still on my back, I sat up using my elbows for support, despite how much it hurt.

The rumbling under me grew harsher and louder. Some of the sands in front of me began to ripple and shift. I gritted my teeth as I watched the scene unfold. The undulating crimson sand across from me suddenly gave way with a resounding boom. There was something rising out of the sand.

The sable arch appeared first, followed gradually by the rest of its steely frame. The enormous double doors towered far above me. Protruding from the front of the doors were the torsos, bandaged heads, and single arms of two gigantic skeletons, mirroring each other with either hand grasping the seam of the black doors. Stringed charms wove their way over and through ribs. Gold chains like the ones that had dragged me down crossed the doors over four times. The rumbling stopped, and the ominous doors were revealed in their entirety, dwindling trickles and streams of red sand continued to run over its frame. I felt my pulse quicken. Not because of what had just happened, but because I realized what this was.

I could only stare in disbelief as the doors of Hell stood towering above me.

Oh… shit.

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**/first chapter. Lemme know how it is, lovely readers  
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